


Bleeding Ice, Burned Heather

by GoldenPaws



Series: The Chains That Bind Us [5]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Desperation, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Just not right away, Lets see where this goes, Lies, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, Loki learns of his heritage, Lots of Angst Actually, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Odin is kind of a dick, Presumed character death, Sad, Set during Thor, Suicidal Thoughts, Things will get better I promise, Thor (2011) - Freeform, and pretty damn sad, but what else is new, i mean you know it's not real but Loki doesn't, i'm sorry you guys, like REALLY dark, nothing but lies, so yay angst and drama, sorry but this turned kinda dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 06:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21369637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenPaws/pseuds/GoldenPaws
Summary: “I am leaving”, he spits after a moment of hesitation, “and I do not know when or if I will come back. Don’t bother looking for me, you will not--”“Lyngvy.”“...What?”“You are planning to travel to Lyngvy again. As you’ve done countless times in the last centuries. To visit that cursed child of yours.”Loki feels a shudder run through his entire frame as he watches Odin in disbelief, staring at the old king slumped before him. They knew, they always knew, and he was a fool for ever believing otherwise. A fool for believing he’d ever escape the Allfather’s gaze, and a fool not--“He is gone.”“What? What are you talking about?”“Oh, Loki. The wolf has died a while ago. You had travelled to Svartalfaheim, I believe, and he died just a few days after your departure.”
Relationships: Fenrir & Loki (Marvel), Loki & Loki's Children (Marvel), Loki & Odin (Marvel)
Series: The Chains That Bind Us [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1477469
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	Bleeding Ice, Burned Heather

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, I'm back! :D  
Due to a slight miscalculation on my part, I finished my NaNo project on the very first day, so I've spent the last few days working on this AU ^^ Uh, cool, I guess?
> 
> Anyway, here's the next installment! It's very sad and angsty, so sorry in advance! It's time to check in with Loki, because his son is free, so where's daddy dearest? Next part we'll return to Tony and "Sato" (and I may or may not have written five chapters for that one already), so if there's any scene, dialogue or situation you'd like to see, lemme know in the comments ;)
> 
> And any feedback would be very much appreciated!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Love,  
Goldie

Loki feels lost, yet his body keeps on moving, slowing walking down the weapons vault’s hallway. It is almost as if he can watch himself move along, his hands reaching out as he touches onto the casket’s handles. For a moment, he wonders if it’s too late to simply turn back, to leave the room and forget about all that he has seen on Jotunheim. But then his muscles are already working against him, lifting the casket. He feels a rush of cold travel through his body, and his skin turns the same, terrifying blue color he has seen just a little while ago, during the battle. There it is, the truth, and he wishes to never see it again.

“Stop.”

The voice makes him flinch, but he is not surprised. It was only a matter of time, after all. Setting the casket back down, he takes a deep breath and forces his hands to stop trembling before he opens his mouth.

“Am I cursed?”

“No.”

It’s not a lie. But then again, Odin always had a way to deceive even him. One of the very few that were able to do so. He has always resented him for that ability.

“What am I?”, he asks lowly, even if he knows the answer, even if there’s no doubt on his mind anymore, because it is easily answered.

“You’re my son.”

Lies, all lies, and yet he believes Odin is telling the truth. Or his very own, twisted version of it, anyway. But it’s not what Loki wants- No, _needs _to hear, so he forces himself to open his mouth again, even if the words seem to stick to his tongue and teeth and then drip to the ground like acid.

“What more than that?”, he asks as he turns, and slowly starts to walk towards the Allfather standing at the staircase, “the casket wasn’t the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?”

The King remains calm, watching him with slight interest, and that hurts more than any hatred he might’ve sparked with his words and questions. He wishes for burning anger and a raised voice, but all he gets is a calm, quiet explanation.

“No. In the aftermath of the battle I went into the temple and I found a baby. Small, for a giant’s offspring. Abandoned, suffering, left to die. Laufey’s son.”

The words cut through, even if it’s no surprise, either. Loki feels his heart clench and stutter as he understands, as he remembers the monster he faced today, and he shudders at the thought of this creature being his father. It cannot be. And yet he knows it’s the truth.

“Laufey’s son...”

“Yes.”

“Why?”, and that’s the question that crawls through his mouth and forces its way out of his mind, echoing through the quiet vault, “you were knee deep in jotunblood, why would you take me?”

Because Odin may be many things, but he has hardly ever known to be kind. Loki has lost too much through the Allfather’s cruelty, but this- This he doesn’t understand. And he needs to, he just needs to know and understand, or else it might just drive him mad.

“You were an innocent child.”

And Loki can’t help but laugh, short and bitter and cold, because he has never hear anything more ridiculous. No, the Allfather might not be a humorous character, but this drags a painful chuckle from the sorcerer’s chest. It hurts, but he can’t suppress it, either. A moment later he sobers, and faces the old man once again.

“No, you took me for a purpose. What was it?”, because they are not all that different, they can be very much alike, and he hates it, hates himself now for what parts of his being that he used to value and love, but now it all just feels disgustingly wrong, twisting in his guts like a parasite feasting on his stupidity, naivete and false beliefs, “TELL ME!”

“I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance bring about permanent peace. Through you.”

“What?”

So he was a pawn. Not an innocent child that deserved to be rescued, but a pawn the Allfather planned to use at a later point in time. Not a beloved son, but yet another weapon, another utensil a cruel king considered worthy of taking with him. He feels himself crumble, yet he remains on his feet as the king shakes his head.

“But those plans no longer matter.”

“So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me!”

Loki feels lost, but so angry and desperate that it clouds his vision, thoughts spinning in his head as he tries to understand.

“Why do you twist my words?”, the old man mutters now as he turns his head, and he sounds exasperated and tired, the way he’d talk so many times when his children played a prank on some unsuspetcing guard, only that it was all a lie, and nothing of it was ever true.

“You could have told me what I was from the beginning, why didn’t you?”

Although Loki isn’t sure what it would’ve changed, if it would’ve been a fate more merciful than what he faces right now. Anger is boiling in his blood, and he wants to lash out and grab onto Odin’s shoulders, shake him and demand answers, ones that won’t cut as deep as the previous ones did.

“You’re my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth.”

Lies, all lies! Nothing but lies, and they make Loki’s head spin even worse than his own twisted thoughts until it all washes over his eyes, makes him blind and filled with hatred.

“Because I am the monster parents tell their children about at night?”, he hear himself say, because it’s true, and that cuts into his flesh and bones, makes his hands shake and tremble as he walks closer, unsure of what he will do once he reaches the Allfather.

The old king only keeps on shaking his head, and now Loki realizes that the King is slowly sinking down onto the stairs. Frowning, he steps just a little closer, and then he understands... Of course. That’s what Laufey saw, and now the king is crumbling before him. The sorcerer is lost, once again, because he doesn’t know... He is angry, filled with hatred, but he doesn’t know what to do. He is lost. But he knows he cannot stay here, in this cursed vault, in this cursed palace, when he now knows that- That he doesn’t belong here, after all.

“I am leaving”, he spits after a moment of hesitation, “and I do not know when or if I will come back. Don’t bother looking for me, you will not--”

“Lyngvy.”

“...What?”

“You are planning to travel to Lyngvy again. As you’ve done countless times in the last centuries. To visit that cursed child of yours.”

Loki feels a shudder run through his entire frame as he watches Odin in disbelief, staring at the old king slumped before him. They knew, they always knew, and he was a fool for ever believing otherwise. A fool for believing he’d ever escape the Allfather’s gaze, and a fool not--

“He is gone.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, Loki. The wolf has died a while ago. You had travelled to Svartalfaheim, I believe, and he died just a few days after your departure.”

His heart stops for a few moments, he’s sure of it. Then pain, immense and endless floods through his mind and body, clawing at his chest and tearing through his brain as he stares into the Allfather’s gentle expression. No, it can’t be.

“You’re lying.”

“No, I am not. He died, and I sent a delegation to Lyngvy to burn his remains. It is done now. He is gone.”

“No. No, no, no, no, no, you’re lying, you’re ALWAYS LYING!”

Odin watches him with warm, kind eyes, and Loki even thinks he can see some sadness there, but it only makes his heart so much worse, because he knows the Allfather probably laughed when he heard of his son’s- But no. It’s not true. It’s a lie, nothing but lies!

“You know he was growing weaker. You have seen it happen, and we both knew it was only a matter of time. Gleipnir did its work, and now we can put it all to rest. It’s over.”

Loki wants to scream, because it can’t be! It can’t be, Fenrir can’t be-- Gone, no, he is alive, he has to be! His son is strong, and waiting for him on the cursed island, because he knows that his father will always come back to him, because he promised! And he promised he’d find a way to free his beloved wolf, and then they’d be free again, and now, now he won’t--

“I am sorry, Loki”, the Allfather whispers as he sinks lower to the ground, eyes falling closed, “I know you loved him with all of your heart. But the wolf had to die, and now it’s all over.”

“NO!”, Loki screams and he closes his eyes, shaking his head, “NO, it’s not true! You’re lying, I know you are, you are always lying! Fenrir is- He is alive, and I will--”

“I am sorry... I know you’ve hated me ever since I sent him away... But it had to be done... And you will see that for yourself soon enough...”

“NO!”, Loki screams as he pushes past his- Past Odin, and storms off.

He can hear the Allfather call out for him, but he doesn’t turn, doesn’t even hesitate as he races through the golden hallways, blind and deaf for all the voice calling out to him, for all the worried and confused glances. He runs, heart pounding in his chest as he pushes the guards aside and storms out of the palace.

Lies, nothing but lies. The Allfather knows how to hurt and control him, so he tells the lie he fears the most to be the truth. But Loki won’t believe it, not until he has seen it with his own eyes. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he turns to look out into the vast universe. He knows the way, after all, he has gone to Lyngvy enough times to remember the way, and then he will know... And until then, someone will have found Odin in the vault, and they will be busy with the King’s ailing. No, no one will come after him for a while, and then- Loki doesn’t care. All he cares about is reaching the island, reaching his son again, and know once and for all that he has not failed yet. Shuddering through his next breath, he turns towards the right direction and summons his magic, begging for his hands to stop shaking and his mind to be clear enough to guide him there. Once he feels the surge of magic travel through his body, he closes his eyes and allows the universe to swallow him whole.

Loki reaches Lygnvy within just a few hours, and that fills him with fear. He remembers wandering through the mist for days, weeks even, confused and lost, because the magic kept him away and toyed with his mind. He remembers the cold seeping into his skin and the way he’d shiver for days after he got back to Asgard, and the slightly clouded feeling in his mind as he stumbled through the endless grey.

Now, there is no difficulty in reaching the cursed island. His legs move through the cold water without any hesitation, and his labored breathing is the only sound next to the small waves crashing against the shore. It shouldn’t be this easy, it never was. Odin made sure to never let anyone find Fenrir by accident, deterring anyone who might end up close to the island, and it always took him so long to fight his way through the mist and the confusion... Why would it ever be so easy? An answer grows in his head, but he shakes it off, because that cannot be the truth! Loki runs up the shore, and then he stops in his track.

The heather is gone. There’s nothing left but ash and burned up plants, covering everything he can see. Smoke is still rising from the burned ground, and the spicy smell of heather is flooding his senses. He wants to throw up, he wants to yell and scream, but he cannot afford to lose even one more second. Cursing under his breath he starts moving again, running over the still glowing ground. The ash reaches up to his ankles, and the smell of fire and burned wood makes him gag as it fills his nose and lungs. It’s too easy, as it barely takes him more than a minute to reach the place- The place, where his poor sun has spent the last centuries, chained to the ground as the fetter cut into his flesh and slowly tore him apart.

There it is. But Fenrir is gone.

Loki’s knee grow weak, but he forces himself to keep moving, to run forward and reach that cursed and beloved spot, where he lowers to the ground and reaches into the warm ash. His fingers dig through the dirt, and just a moment later they latch onto something cold and hard.

_Bones_, he thinks and shudders, pushing the thought from his mind as he pulls the object from the ash and forces himself to look at it. Not a bone, but a chain. One that he’s come to know all too well, and his fingers clench around it, until the metal digs into his flesh. Gleipnir. It’s magic is long gone, and now it’s nothing more but an ordinary chain. A fetter which could never hope to hold his son even now, a simple chain... But why? He whips his head around, looking for something, anything that might tell him where to look, where to turn, because the fetter is broken - And he doesn’t know how, because he never thought it possible, even with all the research he did. He always doubted he’d ever be able to break those chains, and here they are, broken and useless, but _why_?

“Fenrir?”

No answer, only the sound of those waves crashing it the shore.

“Fenrir!”, he calls, louder this time as he pushes back onto his feet and looks around, “Fenrir, can you hear me? Where are you?”

But there’s no answer, and he- He knows, he _knows_ that his son is gone. There’s no magic calling out to him, no gentle tugging in his chest pulling him towards his beloved son, and that scares him beyond words. It was the one thing he could always rely on, the one thing he clung to in the darkest of nights. Now... Now it’s _gone_. And he didn’t even realize it, doesn’t remember when it happened, and he feels shame rise in his chest. His son... His beloved, beautiful, pure son... He’s gone. He- He’s dead. And Loki didn’t even notice. He was too concerned with his own struggle, which seems so irrelevant at this very moment. But Fenrir... Fenrir died.

It hits him then. A pain so immense and all encompassing that his knees buckle and he falls to the ground. The air leaves his lungs as he stares into the grey ash covering the ground and tries to understand how this could happen. He was- He was working so hard. He tried everything, he was getting close, so damned close that he should’ve been able to break those cursed chains after just a few more years. He was so close...

“Why...”, he whispers as his finger clench around the fetter, “why, oh why, Fenrir, _why_...”

Loki crumbles to the ground then, falling into the ash as he lets out a wail, howling and crying out in pain as his heart shatters. His son, his son is dead! Gone after centuries of fighting and persevering, Fenrir is gone! And he died all alone, on this cursed island surrounded by nothing but heather and mist, without his father, who should’ve been there to hold him, if he failed to free him after all. Loki cries out as he thinks of Fenrir taking his last breath, whimpering and crying out for his father as he- Died. He feels fat, hot tears stream down his cheeks and dripping into the dirt underneath him, feels his chest constrict with sheer grieve and pain as he lets go of the chain and curls into himself.

The world grows dark around him as he cries and shudders. In this mist, this endless grey he finds the darkness crawl back into his mind as his body grows cold. His child is gone, and he knows the pain, has felt it before, but this- This is different. This is sharper and more cruel than anything he has ever experienced, and he wants to howl and scream and beg for mercy, though he knows all too well that creatures like him can’t expected something like that anymore. He is a monster, after all, and now... Now he’s lost the one soul he would’ve told about his discovery, the one soul kind enough to love him still just as much as he did before.

“Fenrir”, he whispers with a shuddering breath, “Fenrir, I am sorry! I am so sorry, my poor boy! Please, please forgive me!”

But Loki doesn’t deserve forgiveness, he never will. He has failed his son, the one child he still stood a chance of saving, and now he will have to suffer for his short comings. Another wail, a cry for help, for forgiveness, but it goes unanswered as well. There is no one out here, anymore. No traces of life or magic, all burned away in the fire that also feasted on his son’s lifeless body. It’s all gone. Everything is gone. With Fenrir, his hope and joy have left him as well, and he feels an emptiness in his whole existence that scares him. An abyss has opened in his mind, and every thought, every emotion he might feel beside the pain tumbles into it and is lost to him. Loki closes his eyes as he allows himself to be swallowed by his agony. The pain washes over him and drags him deeper into the darkness.

Time passes, as it always does. Loki knows the worlds won’t stop moving through the universe, even if Fenrir is gone. Even if the sorcerer is so lost and scared he barely knows how to take his next breath. Time passes, but he stays on the soft ash and cries and whimpers in pain. His mind is clouded and his heart is heavy, and his face is covered in dirt.

He thinks about getting up, but he has no strength left. And why would he get up, anyway? Where would he even go? Loki thinks about Lyngvy, and then he thinks about Asgard, the cursed golden palace. He thinks of the brutish idiots running around like headless chickens, and about his mother and cowering at his- At _Odin’s _bedside as he sleeps. As the monster sleeps undisturbed behind his golden walls, in his golden bed, and the anger rises, if only for a moment. Loki is tired, and so, _so _sad and lost and desperate. Why would he get up? Where would he go? And does it even matter? It doesn’t. Nothing matters anymore.

Loki doesn’t want to get up. He doesn’t want to move, to think, he doesn’t- He doesn’t want to exist any longer. He is tired of everything, tired of his life, and he has no reason to move ever again. Taking a shaky breath, he forces himself to lift his head and look around once again. No, he doesn’t want to move, but he knows he can’t stay here forever, either. Hunger will take him eventually, but it will take a long, long time. A lot longer than he’s willing to wait. Loki has always been proud of his patience, his willingness to wait for the best possible moment to strike, but all of that is gone now. There’s no patience left in him to wait for death, and he decides then and there that he will end his life.

“To see you again. To finally be with you, my sweet pup. So that we can finally be free, the two of us”, he whispers as he struggles to his feet and brushes a hand over his dirty face, “yes, I will see you again soon enough, Fenrir. If not in this life, then in the next.”

The thought makes him smile, if only a little. Life has often been cruel to the two of them, but maybe it is time to leave it all behind. Loki knows that most people get lost in Hela’s realm, but he has hope that he’ll be able to find his son there, as well. And there they will finally be free from Odin’s clutches. It gives him hope, and so he manages to trudge through the ash, slowly making his way towards the shore again. He will leave this island, and then travel back to Asgard. No matter how much he hates the palace, he wants to say a final goodbye to his mother, and maybe even his broth- But no. And then he will simply end his own life as fast as possible. And then he will be free again.

Nodding to himself, he is just about to fasten his pace when his foot nudges against something solid once more. Frowning, he comes to a halt again and looks down. Something metallic is peeking through the ash, and he leans down to brush some dirt aside. It’s a blade, one that he recognizes immediately as well, and dread and anger curl in his guts. The sword those monsters wedged in between Fenrir’s jaws, the blade that cut into his flesh and made it impossible for him to howl. Loki starts trembling again, but this time from anger and hatred. Turning towards the shore, he looks out onto the shallow ocean, and thinks of the golden palace. Of all the people living there, who cursed his son and cheered when the guards dragged him out of Asgard, of his brother who did nothing at all to help, and Odin- Odin, who ordered them to chain down an innocent child, who is now sleeping in his castle, relieved and content to know that Fenrir has lost the fight he forced him to suffer through, who still rests easily and feels safe in his regency.

Loki growls and bares his teeth as he feels his hackles rise and his heart beat faster again. That cursed monster, that cruel old man, the beloved tyrant! Why... Why should he escape unscathed? Why should he get to continue his life as if nothing happened? Why should he be triumphant, while Loki and his son have to flee the realms of the living, just to be free and safe? Why should Loki not make him pay for his cruelty?

The thought lights a fire in his brain, lighting up his grieve and pain, making his mind glow once again. Even in the darkness crawling through his thoughts, he feels the ideas growing easily, his heart racing and hands shaking as he already begins to form a plan. Odin is asleep, after all, and there is no one left to protect Asgard from potential threats. Frigga won’t suspect a thing, and his brother is gone... And Odin is defenseless, in his golden halls. With a low growl, Loki straightens his spine and makes a decision.

Death will have to wait for him just a little longer. There are things he needs to take care of before he can follow his son into a new realm. First, he will get his revenge. He will make them all pay. And he will enjoy every second of their pain.


End file.
